However, comedy was not always so sunny at FX, which made its name with distinctive dramas like The Shield, Nip/Tuck and Rescue Me. For years, the channel struggled to mount a comedy that could corral the same critical acclaim and viewer loyalty. In 2003, for awhile, it seemed FX had actually succeeded.

Lucky was a single-camera half-hour starring John Corbett, everybody's favorite ragtag radio philosopher from Northern Exposure, as a compulsive Las Vegas gambler. Already: not your normal network show. Corbett's character, nicknamed Lucky, was that, indeed, having won a million dollars in a poker tournament. And he was unlucky, having blown it all through compulsive gambling. As he tried to put his low-rent life back together, he was either aided or not by a scruffy circle of Gamblers Anonymous pals and con confidants, including a please-hit-me car accident scam artist. Lucky had loan sharks chasing him. His wife had committed suicide. Cue the laugh track! (Not really. The show didn't have one.)

Edgy usually works for FX, proud home of envelope-pushing, but Lucky just didn't click with enough viewers. Maybe it's because most FX leads are anti-heroes. They might do some social and personal good -- they're cops, doctors, firefighters -- but they're basically sarcastic, self-absorbed, insensitive me-firsters. And that's not Corbett's game. Whether he's playing that Alaskan loner, the big fat dreamboat of My Big Fat Greek Wedding, or Carrie's much-too-sweetie on Sex and the City, he's a lovably hunky puppy dog. Which is not exactly a term one would apply to FX-ers like Vic Mackey or Tommy Gavin.

So Lucky was more a shaggy dog than FX's usual German shepherd. (OK, that's it for the canine metaphors.) And viewers weren't sure what to make of it. What few viewers there were. Another problem was that FX simply had no comedy track record and, at that point, not much of a series image, either. The Shield had done two seasons, and Nip/Tuck was debuting, but FX was still just starting to develop original scripted programming. Before that, they'd aired cheap in-studio talk/reality shows, mostly aimed at young "guys," and the channel's schedule was still sports-intensive (Major League Baseball, NASCAR). The female demographic that would have taken Corbett to heart, if not to bed, probably didn't even know FX existed.

There's another way to look at it, too. Maybe Lucky was actually too traditional. It was created by brothers Robb and Mark Cullen, who'd go on to write for network dramas like Las Vegas. (They also did the animated sitcom Gary the Rat. Go figure.) Lucky may have loped along charmingly, but its structure still walked and talked pretty much like a broadcast show, with a broadcast-proven star. The humor was Hollywood enough for the pilot to be nominated for a comedy writing Emmy.

It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia don't play that. Even the title is way-hip ironic. Creator Rob McElhenney and partner-in-crime Glenn Howerton actually shot the pilot in Philadelphia, and their scripts take pride in tackling controversial subjects -- abortion, guns, disability -- without the usual taste or sensitivity. Their barfly characters (and they play two of them) are lazy, self-centered, manipulative, argumentative and generally unredeemed. No puppy doggery here.

Where Lucky couldn't lure viewers in 2003, the giddy rudeness of Sunny hit home with enough of a following in 2005 to be renewed for a second season. That's when DeVito came aboard as dad to two of the losers, finding a fine new home for his crusty Louie DePalma vibe. On Taxi, he had to be at least semi-lovable. Here, not so much. Actually, not at all.

It fit. Like Sunny fits the FX attitude. (Watch episodes streaming at Hulu.) Sure, Lucky was plenty fun -- in fact, where's the DVD release? -- and Corbett was then coming off a movie blockbuster (Greek Wedding). But the show just didn't deliver the acute execution of idiosyncrasy that makes for success on FX. Lucky the channel kept trying until we saw the light.